"The Decision" - One Year Later

What is there left to say about "The Decision"? What to say hasn't already been said? How can I lure readers into this contrarian death trap of tedious arguments and insidious intent, focusing especially on Richard Jefferson, that I call a weblog? Hmm....

Well, personally I think LeBron made a bad decision in leaving the Cleveland Cavaliers, but "The Decision" was a fantastic, brilliant marketing move that made him the talk of the town for probably the rest of his career. He certainly ended all those "LeBron/Kobe" arguments that people were actually having in 2010. It was a gigantic way of saying to him, "Kobe, listen: you're a great player, but no general manager on Earth would want you over LeBron right now for next year. Where LeBron chooses to go will determine the state of the league for the next decade. You will not understand this, Kobe. It's alright."

Now, in spite of this successful media gamble, and in spite of LeBron inarguably embracing the team concept over selfishness, he was hated on, by, naturally, people born and bred to hate things. He was hated on by such inverse-latchers-on for his pink plaid shirt and his unfortunate decision to be announced first (and therefore most important) in the subsequent Heat parade (another media coup, but Wade's relegation to the end of the Big Three in the parade showed unbearable narcissism by James). This media blunder would haunt James, much like Vlade Divac in "Once Brothers," but there was basketball to play and they were players that played basketball in Miami, now, because of "The Decision", which happened exactly one year ago.

Mike Brown's Future After LeBron

Prequel is here

Mike Brown, jauntily, paces the whole of the benches of both teams. The Q is empty now, save for Brown's practiced, dangerous stomping. His skin glows and his teeth, occasionally shown in smiles and vocalized chomps, shine with layers of shoe polish. Brown is, as he puts two steps on the court to practice a shout at Mo Williams to play some defense for once, a "propah fuck-hawse", beyond the power of the rest of the universe to add or detract. As he jumps up and down because he is practicing seeing an outrageous call against his team, Brown suddenly ponders.

"Oh LeBron, whatever will the rest of the team do without you?"

Brown knows that whatever the answer is for one player, the answer will be different for another. The same is true of fans, writers, and assistant coaches. But not to Mike Brown. His answer is the absence of an answer: He will be a basket-ball coach - for ever, independent of any players that done come and gone. LeBron has left this town, and, barring a little hop that hasn't taken for him anymore, Mike Brown's coaching repertoire and his unwritten "playbook" is exactly the same for him.

"Maybe I'll take out the play where our small forward dunks from the free throw line, or the play where our small forward out-thinks the entire Boston Celtics, or the play where our small forward is better at his position than Mo Williams, at the very fucking least."

Ilgauskas on the Cusp of Something Better

Now Ilguaskas worked in the front office and as such had a wonderfully moderate salary, a rather plush Cleveland apartment that did not stray too far from the Rustic Masses, and the reputation of a solid, if clumsy and unambitious businessman. GM Danny Ferry was finally stepping down as Cavaliers GM to seek some job in European basketball. And his assistant, a middle-aged man known mostly for his persistance, would be named his replacement, presumably in the next several hours. It was eight o'clock in the morning, and any minute over the course of the day, Big Z or Mr. Ilguaskas as he was known as now, or what have you, would be named General Manager of his former franchise, the Cleveland Cavaliers of the National Basketball Association. Not to say it was official - but Mr. Ilgauskas's promotion was set in stone except for a contract. Mr. Ferry had promised him this promotion yesterday and this contract would only be the "logical conclusion of an existing fact", Danny Ferry had said. Ilgauskas sighed and opened the drapes of his apartment. "What is the logical conclusion of an existing fact?" he asked himself? Ilgauskas saw that dim shade of blood that iron can turn in the distances of Cleveland. The clock, he now noted, was eight oh five.

Some two hours after this, Mr. Ilgauskas was called into his office after a short nap of manifold little pleasant images strung together by the light of the morning and the smell of the hot coffee pot neglected in the kitchen near his sofa. Checking his hygiene and dress briefly, Ilgauskas put on a blue-and-red Cavaliers sweater and a perfunctory Indians cap and then he went out the door into the mid-morning of Cleveland in Spring, its bleak hues redundant upon his sweater. He smiled and breathed in the cool air. "Finally", he thought, "My recognition will be total and legitimate." His first title with Cleveland had been marred by a surreal trade. His franchise record for games played had been marred by a surreal benching on the very night he'd brought his family. His Lithuanian Olympics, his childhood dream, had been cut short by Ferry. But now, it was his turn to lead this organization, and there could be no doubt of the respect this position would carry. "And not too much more responsibility," he thought, "Just enough to keep me busy."

Cavs SotU

"We are strong. But we are strong because we are fast. But we are fast because we are strong. Or not. The bottom line is, I am definitely the president. I don't think we have any argument there," as President James addresses the joint session to applause.

"And Shaq is certainly the Majority. The Big Fella, half the body weight of the entire team." More applause.

"And Mike Brown is certainly the Supreme Court. His husk could move continents of garment companies, deciding who lives and who dies - a sort of Solomon ruling with terrifying wisdom." More applause.

"And Mo Williams is a child. He is a child." Mo looks offended, and all eyes turn to him, no one saying anything. "No, I don't mean like immature. I mean he looks like a child. It's not a bad thing, Mo. You are a fine point guard. You are...just fine, Mo, the way you are. But you are a child." Less applause, still some enthusiasm. Mo is heard to mouth, "Not true" but the incident passes.

"Big Z is surely our working class. He gets angry and populist, and falls down sometimes and we laugh at him, but we all know, without the working class we are nothing, or would want to be after losing him. Let's hear it for Big Z." Reluctant applause as Z stands up clumsily.

The Cavs are losing again.

The Cavs have lost two straight to teams that they should have beaten. Evidently Mike Brown's brilliant stunt has begun to wear itself out. Let me explain.

You see, when Mike Brown maliciously benched Big Z, giving him a DNP-CD on the night he was to break the franchise record for games played, Brown also gave the other Cavs a motivation for positive action. Lebron famously looks on Big Z as an older brother, so Mo Williams and Jamario Moon look up to Big Z as a beloved uncle. So we have that the Cavs played with the fire of family scorned. They fought like insurgents in a brutal quagmire. Of course, because of this, the Cavs won a number of games consecutively, even trouncing the Suns in his glorious return to action.

"My Eyes Bleed Just Thinking About it"

Dear LeBron,

I've been watching your post game and I think you could improve. Enclosed are a bunch of pictures of Kevin McHale to inspire you.

--Alex, age 20.

Dear Alex,

Thank you for the pictures of Kevin McHale. I was certainly inspired! But I am on a progress fast, because Mike Brown has benched Big Z indefinitely. He is a chipmunk, Alex. Anyway, because he is a chipmunk, he is jealous of Big Z's longevity. As you may know, the lifespan of chipmunks is typically less than 10 years, and Big Z has been a staple of the roster since 1997, over 10 years ago. It is physically offensive to Mike Brown, as a chipmunk, to allow Big Z to outlive him in the history books, so now Big Z won't break the Cavs record for most games played.

I know how you feel about Ilgauskas, because I read your blog. But he means a lot to me. You know how some people are lunks, but are dependable and do their jobs pretty decently every time? I know that Big Ilgauskas never made a lot of points. But attention could be paid. And so, I will turn in totally mediocre performances until Mike Brown apologizes or retires. I will be the worst best player in the world to honor the best best worst player in the world until the worst coach does the best thing.

My Eyes Bleed Just Thinking About It,
LeBron, Age 25.

Inspired by: LeBron’s Annual To-Do List, Part 1: The Post Game

Categorical Marxism; Shaq. But I repeat myself.

Scientists have known that the world is a giant category ever since Karl Marx proved it in the 19th century. The denialism surrounding this revelation is just plain denialism. The reasons? Well that's a category unto itself.


What is a category? A category is two things. First, a category is a bunch of dots, representing objects. Second, a category is a bunch of transitive arrows between the dots. These arrows represent transformations between objects. So, two objects might be a blank manuscript, and then this very essay. This essay didn't used to be written, but now there it is. I am an arrow going between that blank manuscript and the manuscript of this write-up. Now we have an essay thanks to my miraculous arrowing of that blank scroll. I arrowed the hell out of it. I wrote the essay, son.